


Wish I Were Here

by Chaotic_Cate



Series: Varian Desperately Needs a Hug [3]
Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Angry Varian (Disney), Angst, Angst and Drama, Electroconvulsive Therapy, Electrocution, Gen, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Varian (Disney), Hurt/Comfort, I know electricity didn't exist yet, Incarcerated Varian (Disney), Non-Consensual Electroconvulsive Therapy, Probably too intense for some readers so proceed with caution, Sad Varian (Disney), Varian Angst (Disney), Varian Has Issues (Disney), Varian Needs a Hug (Disney), dark and twisty, kinda scary, out dated mental illness treatments, so just go with it, very sickening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24577756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaotic_Cate/pseuds/Chaotic_Cate
Summary: King Fredric had agreed to help Varian, after his arrest. Mental Illness was treated very differently back then, than it is now, and the King's idea of 'help' comes in the form of electroshock therapy. Set during early season two.This story is very dark, so please heed all warnings before reading. (Warning in notes and in tags).Title based on the song from the musical 'Next To Normal'
Relationships: Pete the Guard & Stan the Guard (Disney: Tangled), Pete the Guard & Varian (Disney: Tangled), Stan the Guard and Varian (Disney:Tangled)
Series: Varian Desperately Needs a Hug [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693492
Comments: 74
Kudos: 178





	1. Flip The Switch

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know! Electricity wasn't invented yet when Tangled takes place, but whatever. It wouldn’t have been too too long after, right? Just pretend, okay?
> 
> This is a really dark story, and I got the idea from American Horror story. It's terrifying and it makes me feel ill, knowing that this was a real thing that was done to people. It is basically torture, so please read on with caution. It could easily be too intense for some readers. Veer on the side of caution, if you're worried.
> 
> Okay. If you've stayed past the warning, I hope you like it!

It had been- well, Varian didn't know exactly, but he guessed it had been around three weeks… maybe more, or maybe less. It was hard to say. He hadn't had a window for the first while, and so time all blended together. He'd sleep and have no idea how long he slept, by the bags under his eyes and constant fatigue, it was fairly safe to say it wasn't long, though. His meals offered no indication either, because the food was always a variation of the same thing, and 'breakfast' was indecipherable from 'dinner'. The food was not necessarily horrible… it was always some sort of lukewarm soup or stew, and dry bread. Varian usually picked at the bread, and stirred his spoon around, taking a few spoonfuls here and there until he eventually turned his nose away. He missed the smell of bacon and eggs wafting his way and waking him on Sunday mornings. Varian shuddered at the memory. Oh, how fast things can change.

Varian spent the bulk of his time thinking about all of who he lost, and not just his dad... Ruddiger hadn't been allowed past the palace gates. Varian cringed at the memory of that night. Ruddiger had chomped the hands of every guard who reached to take him from Varian's shoulder. Varian too had tried his best to defend his friend, despite the shackles that bound him. Eventually though, Ruddiger's biting and squeaking and Varian's flailing and shouting proved fruitless against the Royal Guard. Varian hadn't been content with the separation, and so he didn't go quietly. That night he earned himself quite a few bruises, and a free ticket to a cell so deep down that there were no windows, and nearly constant condensation on the stone walls.

Just a few days ago, though, he was moved to a different wing of the prison. There were only a handful of inmates in this area, not unlike his last cell. Then, Varian had been unfortunate enough to be placed across from some pretty boy Saporian who only talked about himself. It was always a pretty one sided conversation. Varian was not so chatty now-a-days.

Presently, Varian was free of Andrew, and residing in a new cell, with a small window at the top of the wall. The beam of light from outside made it somewhat brighter, and it wasn't quite so cold here, either.

The guards hadn't said _why_ he'd been moved, but he was grateful for it regardless. Varian did his best to just count his blessings. At least now, he figured, he would not die having forgotten the feel of sunlight. Varian didn't know what the king ultimately had in store for him… but he could only imagine… and he figured he'd find out sooner rather than later.

The teenager curled in on himself a little more than he had been already, as if he could protect himself from all his bleak thoughts.

Melancholy had become Varian's usual state since being in prison. The burning rage he had once felt was just unattainable now. Often, he would feel the old flame flicker within him, he'd yell out and punch the mattress, and then he'd be all burned out again, bringing him back to a state of crushing sadness. He was too tired, it wasn't worth it.

So Varian stayed quiet, and he stayed still. Why fight? There was nothing left for him. He loved the idea of freeing his father; he'd wanted very badly to know if he was alive. Varian was fairly certain he already knew the answer, though. So why put himself through it all?

A few tears slipped down Varian's face. He also gave up on trying not to cry. As long as he was quiet about it, nobody would notice.

Unless, of course, somebody was entering your cell _while_ you're crying. Like… now.

Varian sat bolt upright, tensing all over as he backed up toward the wall, still on his cot. He quickly brushed away the tears with the backs of his hands, then pressed his hands into the thin mattress, by his hips.

Varian watched wide eyed, mouth slightly agape, as two guards, whom he recognized as Pete and Stan, opened up his cell. They both had untelling expressions plastered across their faces, and avoided eye contact with him.

Stan remained standing at the entrance, while Pete continued toward him, shackles in hand.

Varian scooched away as far as he could, until he was pressed into the corner.

"Wait. Wait! What's going on? Where are you taking me?" Varian stammered out quickly, as Pete gained on him. His voice was rough and crackley from lack of use.

Pete voiced a little hum, but didn't answer. He held out the shackles expectantly in front of Varian.

The young prisoner eyed the iron shackles, and the guard holding them. Pete's calm demeanor eased some of Varian's panic. He swallowed, then offered his shaking hands out to the man.

Pete secured the shackles to Varian's wrists. They felt cold and scratchy. Varian suddenly longed for his gloves, but they'd been taken from him when he arrived, along with his apron and goggles. He felt far too exposed without them.

Once he was shackled, Pete took hold of his upper arm and led him to stand up, and exit the cell.

When they reached the threshold, Stan took hold of his other arm, and Varian tried again. "Where are we going?" he asked Stan, shakily.

Stan looked down at him for a second, then quickly looked away. His question remained unanswered.

They didn't walk for very long, before they reached their apparent destination. Varian looked into the doorway a few metres straight ahead, and saw a medical table complete with restraints, and a fairly large machine behind it… accompanied by four people in white coats- three men and a woman.

The gears turned in Varian's head, and suddenly his heart was in his throat. He dug his heels down against the stone, and tried to wriggle free of the guard's grasps. "No!" Varian cried. "No! Please! Please!" he was whimpering now, begging.

It was fruitless, as the guards just dragged him forward. They were stronger than they looked, especially Pete.

He fought against them nonetheless, but before he knew it, he was lifted by his underarms and seated on the table.

Varian's heart hammered in his chest with blinding panic. He kicked and he screamed, he threw his elbows around, but now he had the two guards _and_ two of the white coated men fighting against him. Pete held down his legs and Stan held down his shoulders.

He didn't know much about it, but he'd read about it before. Of course, his natural curiosity led him to wonder if it _actually worked_. He'd done more research, and found nothing that could confidently claim they'd had success. No, in most cases the patient ended up worse off than they'd begun. It was a cruel and sickening practice, but doctors didn't know what else to try, so shock therapy it was, in a lot of cases. Varian didn't want to be like those people! He struggled hard, but before he knew it, there was a belt across his chest, and on each ankle, holding him to the bed. Varian continued to wriggle against them.

"Please don't! Please! I'm not sick! I'm not! Besides, this doesn't work! It doesn't! Please! I- I'm a scientist! I've read about this! I don't want to! No! No!" he pleaded aimlessly to the room full of people. They ignored him. He was hopelessly outnumbered.

Two of the coated men each held one of his wrists in a deadly grip, while the other man and the woman stood back against the wall, patiently. Stan took a key from Pete, and unlocked his shackles. Varian hadn't even had time to fight before the coated men had each of his wrists belted down tightly.

The boy wriggled with all he had, and he breathed heavy panicked breaths, while looking around the room wildly, searching for any pair of eyes that he could convince.

Pete and Stan had moved to stand back, out of the way. As did the other two men, but they stayed within a few feets range.

The other man, the oldest of all in the room, suddenly appeared above him. He was clean shaven and had neat white hair on his large head. He wore a shirt with a bow tie under his white coat… Well! If Varian knew they were _dressing up_ …

Varian went silent, save for some quiet whimpering, and locked his gaze on the overdressed… doctor? The man offered an unnerving smile, which brought Varian to wriggle a little more.

The doctor finally spoke. "Now now…" he stopped and looked at a clipboard that he was holding. "Varian." he finished, reading the boy's name off the chart. "There's no point in struggling, you'll only hurt yourself." the man said, with false kindness. He spoke to Varian like he was speaking to a dog. Varian eased off on fighting some. He hated to admit it, but the old guy was right. He wasn't going to be able to wriggle out of these restraints. Still, he kept his head unnaturally lifted off the sad excuse for a pillow, not willing to give them the satisfaction of seeing him lay down flat.

The doctor moved to stand behind him, and started moving his hair about, examining Varian's head.

Varian whimpered, and tried to shake him off. "No! Don't touch me!" he whined.

The doctor had the audacity to chuckle.

Varian felt his lower lip tremble, and he knew he was crying now.

The doctor finally removed his hands from Varian's head, but not after poking two spots, on either side of his forehead, and saying "There, and there." and giving him a humiliating pat on the head. Did this guy _actually_ think he was a dog? The doctor stepped back, and the white coated woman stepped into his view.

She held a shiny steele bowl, and a tongue compressor. She took a dollop of some gel from the bowl, with the tongue compressor, and then smeared it where the doctor had indicated. Varian's stomach flipped. Conductant, he recognized.

He whimpered and pulled away from the substance as much as the restraints would allow. She looked him in the eye with what seemed to be... kindness? She shushed him soothingly. He hated that it did make him feel a little bit less panicked. He was running scarcely low on fight, and therefore, he complied.

With a sad smile, the woman continued smearing the gel onto his temples.

A sob built up in his chest, and expelled before he could stop it. Varian squeezed his eyes shut.

The doctor's voice brought him to re open them.

"Alright, so Varian, today you're going to receive your first treatment of electroshock therapy."

First? Varian shuddered.

"What's going to happen here, is Samantha," the doctor gestured to the woman, who stood listening to the doctor with her hands folded in front of her. He continued. "will hold _these,_ to the spots indicated on your head." he said, holding up an object shaped like a hairband, with padding on the two ends and wires attached to the top. " _I_ will operate the machine behind us, administering the procedure. Now, let's get started." He explained impatiently, gesturing first to himself, then to the machine behind him, and finished, nodding to the other white coated men, who now reapproached him.

Varian's panic built back up and his urge to fight returned. He struggled hard against the restraints and his breath began coming in heaves.

One of the nameless white coated men took Varian off guard when he shoved an object into his open mouth. Varian gagged, and flung his head side to side, in an attempt to get rid of the foreign object obscuring his bite. The coated man tightly held him by the jaw with his free hand, pushing his head against the pillow, and effectively keeping him still.

The other man pressed down against Varian's shoulders, restraining him further.

Samatha came into view above him, and she stared at his tear filled, pleading eyes.

He whimpered through the mouth guard as she watched him. He wondered if she had really made that comforting gesture before, or if her meekness and her femininity had just been enough to trick Varian's phycee into imagining she had. Because now, as he looked up at her, holding the hairband-like object over him, she looked menacing. Their eyes met, and she silently took an exaggerated, slow, deep breath, which he assumed was her silent way of suggesting he do just that. He attempted to do so, but the breath came in extremely shakily.

Samantha held the padded parts of the contraption against Varian's temples, and a flow of fearful tears poured out, accompanied by a weak sob, muffled by the mouth guard. He gave another few tugs on the restraints- as a last hope. No use.

He closed his eyes, all hope of escaping this was gone.

He barely heard the doctor's voice, when he announced, "Administering first shock." from behind him.

With the flip of a switch, Varian's eyes flew open and his body sprung off the table as blinding electricity spread through him. He wanted to scream but he couldn't. He was paralyzed. He was burning. His head, his hands, his feet, his chest and his abdomen were on fire.

It hurt. A lot.

Knowing what he did, Varian knew the shock only lasted a couple of seconds, but it truly felt like an hour. Time stood still, and thoughts stood still. The only thing he understood in those seconds was pain.

At long, long last, the shock ended. Varian closed his eyes again, frightened as his body convulsed, completely out of his control. All he could hear was ringing and some extremely muffled voices. Maybe one was his own…? He vaguely heard a shuddering scream. His vision was spotted in darkness. In fact, there was more darkness then vision.

As he shook with aftershock, he was able to meet Samantha's eyes again. She kept her gaze on his for a moment, until she looked at the doctor, before looking back down to Varian, and placing the padding on his head once again.

Varian wanted to beg, but he couldn't control his voice to do so. He wanted to struggle but his body felt like liquid. He pleaded with his eyes instead.

.

The boy was a tragic sight to see. He was young, scared, and in pain. _So much pain._ Samantha kept her expression balanced. He'd need her calm. If she could stay calm and balanced, then maybe he'd find comfort in that.

She'd gotten into psychiatry to help people. But this? She had trouble believing this was helping anyone. However, as an intern under a recognized and applauded psychiatrist, she had to do the jobs given to her. She was lucky to get any internship _at all_ , as a woman, let alone with this doctor. And so, she assisted in the sickening, cruel torture of this person- this _child,_ and kept quiet.

.

He trembled under the hands of the white coated people. When he thought he may be able to use his voice again, he tried to beg, but it just came out as a hopelessly muffled moan that hurt his throat.

When the second shock came, Varian was not prepared for it at all. His pained moaning turned into an electrified, low and grumbling scream. It held steady throughout the shock.

Varian didn't know that though, as he couldn't hear himself or feel anything. Anything other than burning pain, that is.

When the shock ended, his scream stopped and he convulsed madly, however, this time, his recovery time was barely enough to take two breaths. The muffled voice said something, and the padded objects were held against his head once more. Varian wished he'd pass out. He _begged_ himself to pass out. _Please_ pass out. Please pass out. Please. Please. Please.

The shock was over again after an eternity, and Varian got his wish. In one euphoric moment, the darkness in his vision closed in completely, and he was unconscious.

Even in unconsciousness, his body convulsed. The doctor's assistants released their grips on him, as the restraints were enough to prevent the patient's convulsion from hurting him. The intern, Samantha, took over with the mouth guard. She held it in his mouth so he wouldn't accidentally bite through his tongue, and she held his head as still as she could.

The assistants left, and returned a minute later, wheeling a gurney.

Pete and Stan exchanged looks from their place against the back wall, before they stepped forward, assuming this gurney was Varian's ride back to his cell. They wanted to get out of that room, as soon as possible.

The doctor, who still stood next to the frightening machine, held his hand out, halting them. "We have to wait until the convulsions slow down. It may take a few minutes. " He instructed, knowingly. The guards stepped back to their space against the wall.

Everyone in the room watched in silence as the unconscious and helpless boy convulsed and shook, his body tense, slick with sweat, and his brow furrowed.

.

'A few' minutes, turned into 5, then 10, and then finally, after 15 minutes,Varian's unconscious body's shaking slowed, until he fell completely slack.

Still, nobody moved. The guards, the intern, and even the assistants watched Varian carefully, as if expecting the quaking to start up again. All except, of course, the doctor, who brought everyone out of their trance with his booming voice. "Alright. It's over. Guards?" He said, with far too much casualty after having done what he had.

Pete and Stan jumped at a little, and came to Varian's side.

The guards stood by, while the intern removed the mouth guard, and the assistants unbelted the restraints. Varian's wrists and ankles were raw and bleeding, where the leather had been, and his hands and feet were still vibrating with remaining electricity.

Stan had heard Varian's pleading words before the procedure. He had known what was happening as soon as he saw the machine. He fought and struggled so hard, hard enough that he _broke skin_ against the restraints. He must have been so afraid... Terrified, even.

The assistants lifted Varian onto the awaiting gurney together, one holding him under his thighs, the other under his shoulders. The intern neglected to let go of his head, supporting it until she could rest it gently down on the gurney.

Varian looked very young, even younger than 14, and very vulnerable as he lay sprawled on the flat surface, his bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat.

The assistants raised the sides, so the kid wouldn't fall off, and released the brakes.

Nods were exchanged between guards and medical staff, and Pete and Stan took hold of the gurney's side rails, wheeling it out into the corridor.

The two friends said nothing as they wheeled the boy along. Both were still reeling from what they had just witnessed. They were warned ahead of time that the practice could be fairly unnerving to witness, but they were promised that it would be helping the boy. Now, they didn't know if they could believe that.

The king had good intentions, they knew, but if he had seen it? Oh, just the memory sent shudders.

In no time they'd arrived back at the boy's cell. It felt cruel to put him back in there in his current state, but they had no choice.

Stan wheeled the gurney as close as they could to his cot, Pete went ahead and pulled the wool blanket off the mattress. Stan scooped up the teen, an arm under his knees and another around his shoulders and neck. Varian's head lolled against Stan's chest. The guard swallowed, feeling a rush of guilt over what was done to this kid. His 90 pounds felt heavier as a dead-weight, so Stan worked efficiently in laying him down on his cot.

Light shone in the window, and thanks to that the two guards noticed at the same time that Varian's hands _still_ tremoured at his sides. It twisted their stomachs.

Pete adjusted the pillow, so he'd be more comfortable, then he draped the blanket over him. The men left the cell with the gurney, locking the door behind them. Even now, they said nothing to each other. Their unease was clear in the silence between them. They felt… disturbed. Varian hadn't caused any trouble since the night he'd been arrested. Did he really need this- this… 'therapy'?... this 'treatment'?


	2. Aftershocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've done it. I've written another chapter.  
> Honestly, I couldn't believe how well received this story was after I posted it. I thought for sure this one would be a flop but I still wanted to write it, and wow! Thanks everyone!  
> So, I've written you more. This one gives a spotlight to my homeboy Stan the Guard and takes place later the same day of the first chapter. I plan to write a handful more, putting a spot light on a different character each time, with their thoughts/feelings of the situation. Also, poor Varian will eventually have to endure another 'treatment' or two.  
> Ah, well, I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> *Warning for vomiting! Ew!*

Pete and Stan had finally been able to talk about what they’d seen by the time night fell. And just as expected, they were pretty much on the same page. 

The barracks were quiet at night. Not all of the guards chose to live within the palace walls. No, many of the men had families whomst they’d go home to each night, except when they’d have to take their turn on standby. The Captain of the guards was required to stay at the palace, but he had been granted his own chambers, across the hall from his daughter’s, once he had taken her in. Therefore, Pete and Stan were two of maybe eight residents on a regular night. 

Of all those guards, Pete and Stan were the only two who remained awake now. Their bunks were side by side, and even as they faced away from each other, familiarity in the sound of each other’s breath was enough to tip the other off that neither of them had yet to fall asleep. They both wondered if the other had the same pestering thought to keep him awake. 

Pete was the first to initiate the discussion. He sat up in bed and scratched his stubley face, still debating whether or not he should breach the subject.

“Hey Stan… You awake?” He whispered, already knowing the answer full well. 

Stan rolled over and rubbed his tired eyes. “Yeah… I- I can’t get to sleep” He admitted, a little hesitantly. 

Pete nodded. “Yeah… Me too.” he breathed. 

Stan sat up now too. He signed, looking straight ahead for a moment, before his gaze dipped toward his lap. “Are you thinking about the kid too?” he questioned. 

Pete scratched his head. “Uh, yeah… I know Cap warned us... that- that it wouldn’t be pleasant, but, I guess, I just wasn’t expecting it to be  _ so _ … intense...” Pete explained. 

Stan nodded along. He felt the same way. Then a thought occurred to him. “Do you think he’s doing okay?” the man wondered aloud.

.

.

.

Stan tiptoed through the many narrow corridors of the prison, torch in hand. He felt like he was sneaking around, yet he was completely authorized to be there, and there was no reason he  _ couldn’t _ check up on a prisoner. He was a guard, afterall. 

He offered the on duty guards a nod as he passed by, and they returned the gesture, no questions asked. Stan certainly was not envious of those poor low ranking guards who were stuck with prison night shifts every week. Stan remembered the days, back when he was a new recruit. He’d since worked his way up to the top, and was lucky enough to be placed near the royal family most of the time. 

But, he and Pete were put in charge of any of Varian’s movements. Yes, It showed that they were trusted and valued by the Captain, but it also meant spending more time in this dark old dungeon, and more time with this odd and frightening teenager. Nonetheless, Stan would do whatever was asked of him, he just hoped this kid wouldn’t leave him feeling like  _ this _ , all the time. Stan hated that he was so concerned about the boy. If the kid could hold his own in a fight against the entire royal guard, he could handle whatever this ‘treatment’ did to him. 

Stan’s previous thoughts all dissolved when he finally arrived outside of Varian’s cell. 

The kid was lying in bed. He was positioned in a little ball on his side, facing the wall, and he had the itchy wool blanket pulled up to his chin. Other than that, Stan wondered if he’d moved at all since he placed him there himself 12 hours prior. The completely untouched tray of food inside his door gave a hint.

Stan craned his neck, and extended his torch to light a view of Varian’s face. He saw that his eyes were closed, but he gritted his teeth while shivering despite the blanket, a tense expression warping his young features. Stan figured he must be in some kind of restless sleep. 

The guard stood there in silence for a few moments, pondering over whether or not he should wake the sleeping prisoner. Stan didn’t like that the last time he’d seen Varian awake had been while he was held down and electrocuted. Stan needed to hear the kid speak, and see the kid’s eyes, just to know if he was alright, or it’d keep eating at him. Stan lit another torch that sat unlit in a holder on the wall and placed his own in the empty holder on the opposite wall. He could see Varian much better now. 

Stan cleared his throat. Varian stirred, but still did not wake. Stan chewed his lip.

“Uh, Varian?” he said, with uncertainty.

At that, Varian’s eyes fluttered open drowsily. He turned his head, and his eyes met Stan’s. Varian starred for a few seconds, appearing a bit confused. Then, it was like something clicked in his mind and Varian bolted upright, before frantically kicking off the blanket. He shuffled himself back into the corner of the cot. 

Trying to get even further away, he got himself up on his knees, and then when he tried to stand up on the cot, Stan noticed how his limbs shook with weakness and collapsed under him, unable to support his own weight. 

Varian whimpered at his inability to stand, and instead accepted that he’d have to stay kneeling. He brought his hand to the walls, to keep himself balanced in the corner. 

Varian had trouble finding his voice, but he pushed through and stuttered out “N-n-n-n-no! No! G-go away! I w-won’t go with you! No! No!” 

Stan was taken aback by the sudden fear in the boy. His whole self seemed to tremble, and Stan wondered if that was leftover from the treatment or if it was out of fright. Either way, Stan’s stomach dropped. Nobody had ever been  _ afraid _ of him before. Stan hated the thought that a teenager, a  _ child _ really, trembled at the sight of him. He was now associated with pain, and torture. It didn’t sit well. 

Stan, of course, tried to talk him down immediately. 

“No! I’m not here to- It’s not- You’re not- No, I- I just came to- to check up...on… uh, you. It's okay… really.” the guard consoled.

Varian’s face relaxed somewhat, changing from defensive and afraid to uncertain and confused. He did not take his eyes off Stan, as he slowly lowered himself to a seated position on his heels. 

Like a dog who’d been kicked, there was no trust in his eyes at all. 

Stan held his hands out. “Seriously, it’s okay! I’m not even going to come inside!” he assured the young boy. Then, considering the idea that Varian may  _ want _ a… hug, or something, Stan awkwardly added “Well, I mean unless you- you  _ want _ me to..” 

Varian shook his head. “No.” he blurted. 

Stan swallowed. “Uh,  _ no _ what?” he wondered, scratching his forehead. 

Varian shifted uncomfortably. “Um… uh, no  _ sir… _ ?” he attempted, uncertainly. 

Stan’s eyes widened. That wasn’t what he meant! “No! no, no!” he began to contest.

Varian jumped a little in fright at the guard’s sudden increase in volume. Stan felt even worse. He just couldn’t get this right. 

“No! I meant, what did you mean, by..  _ No _ ?” Stan explained. 

Varian blushed. “Oh. um,  _ no _ , you don’t have to come in…Are.. Are you stupid!?” He spelled out, weakly adding the insult at the end in a feeble attempt to intimidate. He couldn’t withhold that persona lately, his confidence too diminished by his defeat, or  _ defeats _ plural, if you counted all the losses since his imprisonment. Losing Ruddiger, to name a big one. Plus, the near constant mocking of his size, his intelligence, his failures and more from fellow prisoners and guards alike during the first few weeks could not have done him any good either. Varian took his eyes off Stan for the first time, to gaze down at his lap in shame. His distrust didn’t allow him to hover his gaze there, though. He glanced up at Stan and back down, repeatedly. 

The insult packed no punch, yet Stan couldn’t help but feel just a tiny bit of hurt. 

He shifted weight side to side. “Oh. Okay! That’s- that quite alright. Um. Well, how are you feeling? After, uh, you know…” he carried on, as if he hadn’t heard the rude comment.

Varian did look away now. His breath hitched, and he turned quickly to face the wall, sitting cross legged on the disarrayed cot.

Stan didn’t know what to say. The little guy was obviously still shaken up about it, so maybe he just shouldn’t press the matter any further. He decided to change the subject. 

“Okay… uh, did you eat? Tonight?” He inquired, even though the untouched tray sat clearly in his line of vision.. 

Varian glanced over his shoulder for just a moment before turning to the wall again. He nodded. 

Stan shifted again. “Oh... but it looks like your dinner tray hasn’t really been touched…” Stan prodded, with a little hesitance. 

Varian turned again to look at the tray, and it seemed as if he were just noticing it for the first time. He stared at it for a moment, and his pale face morphed into a look of disgust. 

In a matter of seconds, the kid went from pale, to green-ish. He bolted off the cot and pulled an ugly steel chamber pot from beneath, to vomit into. He miserably heaved all he could from his already empty stomach. 

Stan turned around to allow him a moment of privacy, feeling a little nauseous himself now. 

Stan knew he’d finished, at least for the moment, when instead of the awful sound of retching, he heard the sound of Varian catching his breath. He turned back around. 

Varian now sat on the floor, with his head laying in his folded arms on the cot. His shoulders rose up and down with his quick deep breaths. 

Stan waited about a minute before saying or doing anything, in case Varian wasn’t truly finished. Eventually, the guard deemed that enough time had passed. “Are you okay, buddy?” Stan asked, carefully. 

Varian slowly nodded, without ever looking up. His hands  _ still _ trembled. 

Stan nodded, more so to himself, as he tried to decipher what to do.

“Um okay. I’m going to come get that.” Stan said matter of factly, in regard to the chamber pot on the floor next to the teenage prisoner. 

Varian whipped his head around, wide eyes, to see Stan, fiddling with his ring of keys. Varian’s face collapsed into misery. “Nooo.” he moaned, sorrowfully. 

Stan looked up from the task of finding the correct key, shocked by the boy’s reaction. “Oh, nono- I’m just going to get rid of  _ that  _ for you! I- we- we can’t leave it in here. It’ll make the whole place smell.” Stan tried to reason. 

Varian only dropped his head back into his folded arms, whimpering. 

Stan, after a hesitant pause, found the correct key and unlocked the door.

Varian looked up again, his sorrow now accompanied by a hint of panic.

As Stan slowly came closer, Varian’s panic grew. He pushed up to his elbows, and then as frantically as his shaking limbs could manage, he attempted to get to his feet. His elbows buckled, and he couldn’t get his feet underneath him. Varian moaned, panicked and flustered. 

Stan’s heart pounded. He couldn’t leave the kid like this. The guard retrieved the chamber pot from beside Varian, and hurriedly moved it to sit just outside the entrance of the cell. 

Once done with that, Stan turned to Varian once again, who stared back wide eyed, with his mouth slightly open, as if waiting for a ball to drop. Those few seconds of silence made the air feel stiff. 

Stan took a step forward, and Varian flinched. “I’m going to help you get back into bed, alright buddy?” Stan said, taking slow steps toward him, like he was a wounded animal. 

Varian shook his head, too frightened to speak. 

Stan kept coming. “It’s okay. I can’t leave you on the ground like this. Let me help.” He reasoned.

Varian said nothing, taking deep breaths instead. 

The cell was small, and so Stan stood before him just a moment later. 

Varian flinched when Stan extended him a hand. When nothing more happened. Varian eyed the hand warily.

Varian tried to reason with himself.  _ He really seems like he just wants to help! Or, maybe he’s tricking you. He will grab you by the wrist and drag you out and-  _ Varian forced his thoughts to an abrupt halt, and like ripping off a bandaid- he accepted Stan’s hand. 

Of course, both boy and guard knew that a hand would not be enough. It served more so as a symbol of temporary trust. 

Stan wrapped his other arm around Varian’s waist, and gently hoisted him to a standing form. Varian groaned a little, amidst the struggle his muscles faced. 

“There you go…” Stan encouraged as he turned the small boy around and sat him on the cot. 

Once seated, he even assisted Varian in pulling his legs up onto the surface. 

As soon as the guard broke contact, Varian leaned back against the cold wall, exhausted from more exertion than his fragile mind and body could handle at the time. 

Stan gave an awkward nod. “Uh okay. So, you’re alright?” He inquired. 

Varian opened his mouth, hesitated, then mumbled. “mmhmm. Uh- Th-thanks…”

Stan was surprised by this. “Oh! Yeah! Not a problem!” he began, the spirit of the words way over the top, due to the pleasant surprise of Varian’s thanks. As he spoke he stepped backwards out of the cell. He’d spent about enough time down here, but making an exit felt awkward. What would he even say?  _ Better shove off, getting late! _ No, no no no. That was ridiculous, just say goodnight! Stan figured Pete was waiting up, to hear how the kid was doing, so he would have to plan out what he’d say on his way back…

Just as he crossed the threshold hold and gave an awkward wave of farewell, his tread hit something. Stan twisted, turned, and bent as he flailed to catch himself from falling down. 

Varian straightened up a little bit, watching the comical scene play out. 

As Stan righted himself finally, he turned to Varian and gave a small embarrassed chuckle. 

But Varian wasn’t looking at Stan now. He was trying to conceal a smile by pressing his lips together and looking at something near Stan’s feet. 

Stan glanced down, and low and behold, there was the chamber pot, tipped over with vomit spilling onto the stone floor. 

Stan’s shoulders dropped and he exhaled a dramatic sigh. 

Varian snickered, unable to keep it in. 

Stan looked at him, and Varian immediately tried to erase any humour from his face. He wasn’t quick enough though. Stan saw his slight grin. The humour of the situation grew on him, and Stan snickered too. 

Varian’s anxiety eased, and he allowed him to grin and chuckle freely, for the moment. 

It would occur to him later that night, that on this  _ terrible _ day… he’d actually  _ laughed _ for the first time since the night of the snow storm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, Varian and Stan are both baby.  
> Nausea/vomiting, muscle weakness, aches and pains, foggy head/confusion/trouble with memory and more, are all realistic after effects of old methods of Electroshock therapy.  
> Thanks for Reading! Please do let me know your thoughts!  
> and follow my Tumblr if you want! @chaotic-cate
> 
> *I also want to just mention, that in my research for this story I have learned a lot about the current electroconvulsive therapy, that is done to treat severe cases of depression. Because of the procedure's darker origins, it has a lot of stigma around it. But, it's actually totally humane and safe, and life changing for many people!  
> The procedure described here, is almost nothing like the current procedure.

**Author's Note:**

> So what do you think? If there is any interest I'd consider doing a couple more chapters.
> 
> Dollar make me holler....? No. COMMENTS make me holler!! (You should know, that was the weirdest thing I've ever typed!)
> 
> Oh and, follow me on tumblr!... if you want... @chaotic-cate 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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